Page 17 of Savage Kingdom

With your name on it.

Soft people become dangerous

When you destroy the things they hold dearest.

Gunpowder,Nikita Gill

Three Years Ago

Location:Chicago

The world wasfull of monsters; you just had to know where to look for them. We didn’t hide in the shadows; we didn’t always lurk in the dark. We hid in plain sight, at bars, clubs, behind suits and fake smiles.

Officially, I was on a business trip from the organization I worked for. Unofficially, I was looking for a lost artifact. I smiled at the bartender, tilted my head to the side, and gave him a coy smile. He lapped it up. In my experience, all men were the same. All they cared about was your name, your age, or what sign you were. All they wanted to know was if you sucked dick or would lie back and spread your legs, and if he didn’t, then he was probably gay. There were no good men left in the world. Not saying that there weren’t any good women left, I just wasn’t one of them.

“What can I get you, gorgeous?” he asked, giving me a flirty smile.

I didn’t bother with dresses, nor showing my cleavage. Men fell at my feet either way. People said confidence spoke volumes, and maybe it did. I grabbed the cherry from the fruity drink I’d ordered and barely sipped. I opened my mouth and put the cherry in, watching the way his dark eyes followed my every move. I twirled the stem with my tongue, then opened my mouth, showing him the tied knot that was on my tongue.

His eyes burned with lust.

This was way too easy. The hard part was coming, so I got up from my seat, inching closer to him so he could hear me better. “Five hundred.”

“Sweetheart, whatever you want, I’ll do it for free.”

Internally I rolled my eyes, but my smile stayed as fake as his veneers. “I want to go to the lower level.”

His smile stopped.

Ah, there it was. So the lower level was here. Sometimes I surprised even myself. I was a wanderer in the world, not having a moral compass, no set north. Russia was what I called home whenever I got the chance, but Damian kept me all over the world. People thought the world was so vast that it would take a lifetime to explore it, but in reality, it was small, especially the hellish parts.

“One thousand.” The smile dropped from my lips, getting tired of the charade. “If I were you, I would take it before I get in there one way or another, so what’s it going to take—some quick cash, or watch me barge in, wishing you were a little bit richer?”

He swallowed and gave me a quick nod. I dropped all pretenses of being something I wasn’t. I got off the stool and handed him the cash.

“Go down the hall, turn into the door that says Faculty, then take the left door, and knock.”

I didn’t say thank you for nothing pleasant was about to happen. I followed the directions the guy gave me and made my way to the real reason why this bar was getting funded.

It wasn’t the drinks or the ambience; it was the sex club that hid underneath. Sex clubs were a dime in a dozen once you knew where to look. This one, in particular, offered something a little more exclusive. All the women and men had been trafficked. Nothing said gold mine like having a bite of something you shouldn’t want. Putting my hand out, I knocked on the door. My hand came to my pendant, and I said a quick prayer hoping I wouldn’t die today. I made a vow, and I would go to hell the day I saw it fulfilled and not a moment before.

The door opened, and I flashed the guard a smile. “I need a toy for the night, preferably one who can’t talk.”

My eyes stayed on his, unwavering as he looked me up and down. My tight black clothes served to my advantage. I looked more like a dominatrix than a bimbo.

Damian hated it; he would parade me around naked if he could. He wanted me to get everything on my back rather than by the bullet and switchblades.

“Madame.” The guard gave me a small bow and stepped aside.

There was no need to square my shoulders, since I never dropped them. My head was held high and my senses on alert. When you lived in a fucked-up world, evil didn’t scare you.

The room was dark with a yellow ambience, the smell of smoke thick and the music soothing. My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and I scanned my surroundings as discreetly as possible. Sex clubs weren’t “walk in and join our orgy”; they were so much more sophisticated than the men that ran them, respectable businessmen, the people who attended them monsters in socialite clothing.

I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I cared not for what others thought of me. I learned from a young age that it didn’t matter if people formed an opinion about you. Either way, when you needed them, they would not be there to save you. The only person you could count on was yourself.

Feelings were a weakness—a disease. I’d learned to shut them down a long time ago. Why? Because feeling nothing was better than feeling everything. If my family did one thing right it was to raise me to be fearless and ruthless.

I made my way to where the people or pets were chained up, since I had to play my part and pick one. My eyes traveled over their faces, the lifeless look in their eyes, the look of despair. Killing them would be mercy. I picked the one who still had some fire in his eyes. His bones and skin had been damaged, but his soul was still there. You could always tell who had fight in them by looking into their eyes.

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